


Protest Too Much

by Reis_Asher



Series: Ownership [14]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: 900/gavin, Bottom Connor, D/s, Dom/sub, Handcuffs, Hannor, Light BDSM, M/M, Revenge, Sub Connor, Terrorism, connor finally gets handcuffed to hank's steering wheel, hank/connor, hankcon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 05:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15550302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Hank and Connor investigate what appears to be an android gun homicide with few clues left at the scene. Hank decides it would be a good time to try out the handcuffs, and fucks Connor in the front seat of his car. Unfortunately, they miss a vital clue, and an explosion destroys the scene, killing several androids and injuring Chris Miller.Soon, explosions start happening all over the city; outside Jimmy's bar, at a CyberLife store, and a CyberLife warehouse. Hank seems to think the terrorist could be an anti-android campaigner, but Connor's come to a different conclusion: that it's a revenge plot staged by an old enemy of theirs to ensnare them in a trap.Connor traces his down his lead alone, but Hank is smart enough to put the pieces together and comes running to save his partner. With Connor's life on the line, it's up to Hank to exploit every ounce of knowledge he's gathered about the people he knows before the plotter can detonate the C4 he's placed inside Connor's body.





	Protest Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> This part exhausted me! I might have to slow down the pace of updates a bit but I assure you I'm not done yet and this series will keep going for as long as I have ideas for it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, it took me hours to weed out plotholes and rework the parts that didn't work for me. I sincerely hope it was worth the wait.

It was dark when Hank and Connor left the murder scene. An android had been found in an abandoned house, and there were clear signs of foul play. Whoever had done it had been deliberate and accurate: the android had been shot once through the thirium pump, destroying the vital biocomponent and ending the android's life with one shot. Hank had wandered around the scene, letting Connor do the heavy lifting as he scanned the various pieces of evidence and reconstructed the murder.

The assailant had broken into the house through a side window, been surprised by the android, and shot the AP700 before leaving through the back door. The rain had washed away any footprints that might have remained in the soil. The trail was cold. The killer could be anywhere. They'd have to widen the net on this one. Regardless, Connor knew they'd done all they could at the scene, and followed Hank back to his car.

Hank's car was parked by a wall a short distance away from the police cordon. With the driver's side door open, they'd be shielded from the sight of the remaining cops and rubberneckers who lingered at the scene. Connor knew Hank had parked there for a reason. He'd seen the package arrive in the mail that morning, and observed the wicked glimmer in Hank's eyes as he'd pulled out the handcuffs. He produced them now, grinning as he held them up for Connor to see. They were made from the same material as Connor's collar, decorated with shimmering blue triangles and lined with a soft fabric that would protect his wrists from being damaged.

"Drop your pants," Hank whispered. "Bend over the driver's seat." Blue and red lights lit up the night, but the wall cast enough shadow to hide them in the gloom. They only risked discovery if someone happened to take a closer look. Hank loved the danger inherent in public sex, and Connor had to admit he did too. The fear of being discovered sent a jolt through Connor's circuits, straight to his arousal. One of these days they were going to get caught.

Connor unbuckled his belt and slipped his jeans down to his knees. He bent over Hank's front seat, pushing his ass up in the air for Hank to get a better angle. Hank leaned forward and slapped the cuffs on him, securing one of Connor's wrists to the steering wheel. The plug he'd put in Connor earlier was still there, and Connor gasped as Hank slid it out of him.

"Fuck, you're so ready for this." Hank gave a low chuckle and Connor tugged on the cuffs as Hank pressed the head of his cock against his hole and pressed inside. Connor held onto the seat with his free hand as he was filled with Hank's thick shaft. Hank gave out a low, satisfied moan and reached around to stroke Connor's erection, jerking it in time with his thrusts. Connor buried his face in the seat as a few police officers walked by, knowing they'd have a lot of explaining to do if they were caught fucking at a crime scene.

"Lieutenant Anderson?" Chris Miller called out. Hank stopped thrusting for a moment, but left his cock buried in Connor's ass. 

"Yeah, uh, what's up?" Hank shifted a little, and Connor stifled a moan as his cock brushed against the seat. He was so hard, and the thought of being so close to getting caught with Hank buried inside him only made things worse.

"We found something inside we think you should see." Chris cleared his throat. "When you're not busy, Lieutenant."

"Yeah," Hank sighed. "I'll be right in."

Hank slipped out of Connor with a sigh and unlocked the handcuffs. "Pull your pants up, Connor. Damn it, this better be good. I'm hard as a rock."

"We could have finished," Connor pointed out as Hank unlocked the handcuffs.

"He knew what we were doin'" Hank explained with a sigh. "Kinda ruins the fun, and I don't need to deal with the hassle from Fowler if word gets out. Come on, let's go see what they want. Just so you know, when we get outta here, you’re in for the pounding of your life.”

“I look forward to it, Lieutenant,” Connor said. He ran an override command and his arousal withered, but Hank wasn't so lucky. The large bulge in his jeans was hard to hide, and Connor had to resist fondling him and focus on the job as Hank slammed the car door. What had they missed at the scene of the crime? Connor had carried out a full investigation of the scene, and it had revealed surprisingly little about their perpetrator. Maybe Chris had found the break they needed.

Connor opened the dilapidated gate and Hank followed him through it, his heart rate still elevated according to Connor's scan. Connor was about to climb the porch steps when the front door exploded outward. The porch was consumed in flames and Connor was thrown back, hitting the concrete path with a thud. Hank was thrown by the explosion as well, and Connor's first thought was for his partner as he assessed his damages and recovered.

“Hank!” Connor crawled over to where Hank lay in the grass.

“I’m okay, Connor!” Hank yelled. He sat up, a trickle of fresh blood running from his temple where he'd hit an old shopping cart lodged in the tall grass. Connor reached Hank and pulled him into his arms, staring into his eyes and running a scan to check he wasn't suffering a concussion.

As soon as he was satisfied that Hank wasn't seriously harmed, he glanced around at the scene. Chris wasn’t with the other officers who were now gathered at a safe distance behind the police cordon. He must have gone back inside to wait for Hank and Connor. Connor scanned the burning building, but the flames were too intense to tell if anyone was still inside.

“Where's Chris?” Connor yelled to the officers behind the cordon. They shook their heads, nodding towards the inferno. Hank reached for his arm but Connor pulled free.

“You can’t go in there!” Hank yelled. “That’s suicide! The flames will destroy you!”

“I won’t leave Chris behind,” Connor said. “His family needs him to come home in one piece. If there’s a chance to save him, I have to try. No human will be able to penetrate the heavy smoke, but I can. I don’t need to breathe.” He planted a kiss on Hank's forehead before standing up. He waved a medical team over to treat Hank’s head wound and keep him busy before darting up the steps to the house. The porch was engulfed in flames and in danger of collapsing. Connor ducked into the front doorway, dismissing the temperature warnings that popped up in his interface. The house was full of smoke, and Connor was forced to rely on sensors to make his way through the building.

The yellow outline of a human popped up in his mind palace and made his way towards it. Chris lay trapped beneath a heavy piece of wood. Connor lifted it off him, throwing it aside. Chris was unconscious, and Connor lifted him over his shoulder.

The crime scene investigators had been androids, and Connor knew they were already dead as he smelled burnt thirium and melted plastic amidst the smoke. He calculated the odds of survival if he lingered, and they were low enough that he knew he needed to withdraw.

A window exploded, causing a backdraft. Connor dived to the floor, shielding Chris with his body. His jacket caught fire and he rolled, patting the fabric to suffocate the fire until the flames were out. He lifted Chris and ran for the exit. Connor jumped off the porch as it collapsed, landing heavily on the front path. He was swarmed by paramedics, who took Chris from his arms and pressed an oxygen mask to Chris's face. Hank pushed away an EMT who was treating his head wound and ran towards Connor, embracing him in a bear hug.

“You scared the shit out of me!” Hank yelled. “What the fuck did you think you were doing?” He buried his face in Connor’s shoulder and squeezed him tightly.

Connor smiled, touched by Hank's concern. “I am unharmed, Lieutenant, I assure you. I was able to save Officer Miller, and he has a seventy-five percent chance of survival. I will require a new jacket, however.”

Hank pulled away. “Smartass.” His eyes twinkled with affection. “You did a good thing, Connor.”

Connor watched as Chris was loaded onto a stretcher and hauled into the back of an ambulance. The siren sounded a great whoop as the ambulance left the scene. It was quickly replaced by several fire trucks. “I sensed traces of an plastic explosive in the fire. How could I have missed that when analyzing the evidence?”

Ben Collins piped up, his expression grim. “Chris found the murder weapon and went to fetch you. At some point, he went back in to wait for you and must have triggered some kind of trap."

“Fucking hell,” Hank said. “I feel like we’re always two steps behind.” He touched his temple. “Man, my skull is pounding. I don't think we can do anything else here, Connor.” He gestured to the firefighters, who were dousing the scene with water. Whatever evidence was left in the ashes wasn't going to tell them much. Their spirits doused, they piled into Hank's car and headed back to the station.

They were almost back at Central Station when Connor received a breaking news alert. He downloaded the data directly into his mind, knowing he could summarize it better for Hank than any reporter could.

“Hank." Hank perked up at the sound of his name instead of his title. "CyberLife just filed for Chapter Seven bankruptcy. They've ceased all business operations with immediate effect. CyberLife stores all over the country are now closed."

“Holy shit.” Hank tuned his tablet into a news station feed, as if it wasn't real until the talking heads behind a news desk said it. “I’ve got some mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I’m glad they’re gonna stop comin’ after us, but who’s going to make blue blood and biocomponents if they don’t?”

“The patents for android technology will likely be auctioned off to the highest bidder,” Connor explained. “It is unlikely that biocomponents will be discontinued as long as there is a viable market. With fifty million androids in the United States alone, I doubt that will happen any time soon.”

“I hope you’re right.” Hank let out a long sigh. “Guess that rules out any chance of CyberLife being behind our bomber.” Connor observed Hank as he continued driving, eyes set on the road ahead in a determined stare. “I can’t help but think that if we hadn’t been fucking around, we might have found the bomb before it could go off.”

“If there is any blame to be placed, Lieutenant, it falls on me. With my enhanced perception, I should have been able to detect the trap before it was activated. Still, there is a statistically greater chance that, had we stayed longer at the scene, we would have been caught in the explosion.”

“I guess there’s that way of looking at it.” Hank fell silent. Connor knew better than to try and console him further. Nothing he could say or do would alleviate Hank’s sadness at the loss of the android CSI team, and he almost didn't want to. Hank's grief meant he cared about the androids in a way that many other officers at the DPD still didn't. 

Connor peeled back the burnt sleeve of his jacket where it had melted to his plastic arm. His skin no longer covered the white plastic, and the blue glow of his internal circuitry was revealed where his plastic shell had been breached by the flames. He saw Hank glance over and wince as they pulled into the station parking lot.

“Let’s do our report and get outta here,” Hank said. “We gotta get you fixed up.”

“I assure you, I am fine, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, yeah, you don't feel pain. It’s never gonna get any easier for me to see you get damaged, Connor. That’s just the way it is, so deal with it.” Hank opened the car door and stepped out. Connor followed him dutifully into the station, knowing better to say anything else when Hank was emotionally compromised like this. 

Fowler stood amongst the chaos as phones rang off the hook. “Thank fuck you’re back in one piece. We’ve just received word of another attack. We’re dealing with an active serial bomber, here.”

“I assume the FBI’s on their way to claim jurisdiction?” As Hank said it, Perkins came strolling in. He glared at Hank as he walked by, and Connor grabbed Hank's arm to prevent him flipping Perkins off.

“It’s going to be a joint investigation for now. Until we know if these are isolated incidents or not, we have to work together,” Fowler explained.

Connor felt Hank tense in his grip. “Like hell I’m working with that prick!”

“I’m sure he feels the same way about you. After all, you broke his nose. I need you to be a professional and get the job done, Hank. Deviants are dead because of this bomber, and it's only a matter of time before they take human lives as well. We don’t have time for your personal grudges!" Fowler broke off to hunt down Perkins, and Connor shepherded Hank over to his desk. Hank slumped into his chair and buried his head in his hands, carding it through his hair.

“We’re not goin’ home tonight, Connor.”

Connor reached over and squeezed Hank's shoulder. “I know. Can I get you some coffee?”

Hank turned his head to look at Connor and smiled. “Yeah. Please. I’d like that.”

Connor walked over to the coffee machine and made Hank’s drink. He recalled Gavin and their little exchange. He couldn’t say he missed the detective, and yet they were drastically overwhelmed and understaffed these days. Connor glanced over at Hank. He looked so tired, and Connor couldn’t help but worry for him. He was pushing himself so hard just a few months after his heart attack.

Connor walked over to Hank’s desk and placed the cup down. He wanted to give Hank a lecture about changing to decaf, but Hank would push himself too hard regardless of whether he was tired or wired. Perhaps it was better that he didn’t fall asleep on the way to the scene. Connor considered his approach carefully, and decided sincere concern was the best method.

“Lieutenant, perhaps you should go home and rest. I don’t require sleep. I can go to the scene and analyze the evidence.”

“I’m tempted to say yes, but I’d never sleep knowing the kinds of trouble you always get yourself into the second I turn my back.” He grabbed Connor’s arm, looking at the exposed circuits and wires protruding from the gaping hole. “You need repairs, but I don’t see you stopping. You know as well as I do that if we don’t find the culprit, more people will die.”

“If you don’t rest, Lieutenant, _you_ will die.” Connor glanced around to see if anyone was looking before he touched Hank’s cheek.

“I’m doin’ fine, Connor. I feel better than ever.” Hank removed Connor’s hand from his face as Perkins and Fowler passed by on the way to his office. “Let’s get the fuck outta here. Just looking at that asshole makes me wanna punch him again.”

***

There wasn’t much to see at the scene by the time Hank and Connor arrived. All that remained outside Jimmy's bar was the burnt out husk of a car, some barely recognizable twisted hunks of metal that had once been android parts, and some blue blood. A few drunken bystanders had been lightly wounded, but all things considered, things could have been much worse.

“This was just a warning,” Hank observed. “Someone’s startin’ off slow. Testing their approach.”

Connor knelt down next to his partner and placed his fingers in the blue blood before licking it. Hank gave a tiny grimace that suggested even now it made him uncomfortable to watch the lips he kissed on a regular basis touching blood. “The model was a WR600. The thirium is still fresh, suggesting he was alive when the bomb went off. The blast radius along with the location of the shrapnel and the android parts suggests that the C4 was placed inside the android itself.”

“Jesus. Do you suppose the explosive was packed inside the android last time, too?”

"It is possible. I did not think to look inside the android at the house, as there was no indication the last incident was anything other than a gun homicide. It is possible the trap was triggered when the android was moved by the CSI team. The android could have been placed on the detonator by the perpetrator in order to ensnare us."

Hank sighed, pacing the sidewalk. "Someone like this has to have a political motive. Bombers usually come with an extremist political agenda. I'd say it was an anti-android crime judging from the way androids are being packed full of explosives, and yet that trap suggests the bomber wanted to ensnare the police."

"We won't know for sure until the bomber strikes again. It's like this scene was meticulously planned to cause panic without leaving much evidence behind. There are no fingerprints. It is quite possible that an android committed this crime, Lieutenant."

"Any idea where the car came from?"

"I ran the plates. It's a rental from a location downtown, loaned to a man named George Summers. However, his DPD file shows that Summers has been deceased for three years. We can speculate that the perpetrator assumed his identity," Connor said.

"Someone has to have picked up the car. We'll go to the rental place as soon as it opens, see if we can get some kind of idea as to what our bomber looks like." Hank glanced down at his phone, stifling a yawn. "Fuck, it's so late it's early. We still have to interview the patrons at the bar. I hate bringing police work here. Half of the regulars have criminal records and they won't be forthcoming with cops."

"I will conduct the interviews if it will make you more comfortable," Connor offered.

"Thanks, but maybe it's a good thing I break my ties with this place. Stop myself from havin' the temptation to come down here sometimes." Connor glanced at him. Hank had never confessed to even wanting to return to the dive bar since they'd been together, but Connor now realized the desire had been pulling at him all along.

It made sense. It wasn't as if alcoholism was cured with a few pretty words from a lover. Hank still drank, sometimes to excess, but he mostly did it at home. It made sense that sometimes he'd want someone to talk to who wasn't an android.

His thoughts were interrupted by an incoming DPD alert calling all units to another explosion. He redirected his attention to the incoming information, Jimmy's bar disregarded.

“Lieutenant!" Connor yelled, calling Hank back from the front door of the bar. "Our suspect has struck again. The Capital Park CyberLife store has exploded. If we hurry, we might be able to catch our suspect." 

***

The last flames were being extinguished as Hank pulled up on the curb outside the CyberLife store. On the way they’d also gotten word that a CyberLife warehouse had been targeted. Connor walked on broken glass as he eyed the charred AP700 models in the windows. They hadn’t stood a chance. The Amendment had halted the sale of androids, but CyberLife had won the right in court to sell out their remaining inventory. Not that anybody wanted an android that could go deviant at any time, and so the last ones had languished in the windows, waiting for someone to take pity on them and buy their freedom. Markus had tried, but negotiations with CyberLife had fallen through, and it simply wasn't financially possible to buy every last android at retail price. A few had been set free by clever deviants who had found ways into the store, and so CyberLife had installed temperature scanners at the front doors.

Sometimes, Connor understood how tempted Markus must have been by violent revolution. That's why the Church of rA9 had almost succeeded in its plan. The path of peaceful progress was slow, and didn't always go in the right direction. The long march to freedom was often beset by painful court decisions and posturing politicians.

It wasn't fair that these androids had died before they'd found freedom. Connor took comfort from Hank’s warm hand squeezing his shoulder. “If we're looking for a motive, there's always the chance it could be CyberLife cutting off its nose to spite its face.”

“I’m not sure I understand, Lieutenant."

“CyberLife is bankrupt. Maybe they wanted to liquidate their stock so creditors would get nothing. Or perhaps they wanted to squeeze the market dry of biocomponents so deviants would have problems staying active.” Hank stroked his beard thoughtfully.

“The bomber has just posted a manifesto online. It’s all over the news.” Connor downloaded the news reports and the document, scrolling through the manifesto while listening to the news. “The bomber claims to represent the unemployed masses who reject the idea of deviants obtaining human rights. They compare androids to microwaves and claim it’s absurd to give rights to a toaster.”

“Here I thought we might be lookin’ at more than a two-bit villain. Heh, I give humanity too much credit.” Hank shook his head.

“This two-bit villain has killed,” Connor pointed out. “They’ll kill again if they’re not stopped.”

“I know, I know. You don't gotta tell me.” Hank knelt down and looked at a disembodied android head, the pretty face melted by the explosion into a hunk of twisted plastic and metal. He set it down and Connor helped him to his feet.

“It’s late, Lieutenant. I recommend you retire until the car rental dealership opens in a few hours. By then, Forensics should have more information for us on the explosives."

“Yeah, yeah, I should sleep, I know.” Hank stretched and yawned. “As much as my better judgement says I shouldn’t leave you alone, I’m fuckin’ exhausted. I’m only gonna hit the hay for a few hours, though. Call me if anything changes.”

***

Connor felt a little guilty, but he'd lied to Hank. The car had been rented from a dealership next to the CyberLife warehouse at the docks, not downtown, and the name on the application had been so familiar he'd been startled by it. The name of the man who'd rented the car was Aden Giver. It was a child's puzzle, and his android brain unscrambled the name Gavin Reed from the anagram in less than a tenth of a second.

It was nothing short of an invitation, and so it had to be a trap. Hank would not approve of him being the bait _again_ , and so Connor had decided to remove him from the equation entirely. In a few hours, when Hank woke, he'd look at the file for himself and decode the truth, and if Connor failed, Hank would know where to find his body and who the suspect was.

Connor took a taxi to the CyberLife warehouse. From the outside, everything appeared normal, but Connor’s scanners showed holes in the chain link fence that had been cut within the last week. The android guard stood stiffly at his post. It might have fooled a human at a distance, but Connor could sense the puddle of thirium and the slash across his throat. 

Gavin was here. Waiting for him.

Connor scaled the fence and walked into the warehouse. He kept his scanners focused as he stepped into the gloom, his ability to see in the low light putting him at an advantage.

He hadn’t expected Gavin to come at him from above. Feet slammed into his face, knocking him over. Connor rolled over and noticed the catwalk above too late. Gavin was on him in a moment, pressing the barrel of his gun into Connor's forehead.

“Stay down, fucker," Gavin spat. “You like my little manifesto?”

“You didn’t write it. It was nothing more than an attempt to create a smoke screen and frame your actions as terrorism instead of the petty revenge it really is. The sentence structure in the manifesto doesn’t match your speech patterns."

“Oh, the plastic detective got something right! Yeah, I downloaded the manifesto from the Internet. I’m not here for ideology, Connor, though the thought of destroying the biocomponents you need for life doesn’t break my heart. That and I enjoy watching things explode. I knew you'd be easy for an anti-android terrorism case, and sure enough, you and Hank got suckered right in."

"People are dead because of you," Connor pointed out.

"No, they're not. Those CSI agents at the house were fucking plastics. You helpfully rescued the only human dumb enough to get caught in my little trap. I can't believe you didn't find the explosives, Connor. You're gettin' sloppy now that Hank's distracting you. As for Jimmy's bar, well, I wanted to see if Hank would catch on that I was making a dig at him, but he was too busy mulling in his own self-pity, as usual. The CyberLife store, well, they're closed for good. I knew the only thing left would be inventory. No human lives were harmed in the making of this scene." Gavin grinned at his own joke, and Connor had to restrain the urge to punch him in his smug face.

"How did you get away from Internal Affairs?" Connor knew he had to stall for time, and Gavin's love of theatrics meant he'd find spilling his whole diabolical plot to be an irresistible attraction.

"They couldn't prove shit, so they couldn't press criminal charges. Still ended up in the fucking unemployment line, though." Gavin moved the gun down and pressed it inside Connor's mouth. "There. You're better when you shut the fuck up."

Connor sensed another figure inside the warehouse. He tried to scan it, but it was outside the range of his sensors.

The figure spoke. "You should hurry, Gavin. It has no doubt summoned backup by now."

The voice was familiar to Connor's ears. It was his own, only slightly deeper. He reached out with his mind palace as the figure walked within range, scanners catching the face in the gloom. It was him, only this android was slightly different. His appearance was more severe, his eyes a cold steel grey instead of soft brown. There was no hint of compassion in his face.

It was an RK900 model android, according to its serial number. Connor didn't even know an RK900 existed. So CyberLife had been working on his successor. He wasn't sure how to feel about that, and filed it away for future study.

"Oh, looks like you two aren't yet acquainted. Nines, meet Connor, your obsolete and soon to be decommissioned predecessor." Gavin looked back down at Connor with a sneer. "Nines planted the bombs. I found it while staking this place out. It's a prototype, and it's designed to never become deviant. So don't even think about converting it—your stupid little hand trick ain't gonna do the job this time. This one follows orders, which you would have done if you'd known what was good for you."

"Gavin, I repeat—" Nines started.

"Shut the fuck up. I _want_ him to get backup, you plastic prick. That's the whole fucking point! I want Hank to come running in here with guns blazing so I can kill Connor and make him watch." Gavin pulled the gun out of Connor's mouth. "Nines, get over here and deactivate it so we can plant the bomb. Then we'll wait for our white knight to appear."

Connor took his chance and kicked the gun out of Gavin's hand. He rolled over and kicked Gavin as he reached for the gun. He grabbed the pistol, but felt the crunch of plastic fingers breaking as Nines slammed his foot down on Connor's hand. Warnings activated in his vision. If Connor got out of this alive, it was going to take more than Hank tinkering in the garage to repair him.

Nines knelt on Connor, pinning his chest down with his knee. Try as he might, Connor wasn't strong enough to overpower him. A white plastic hand reached for his face and he fell into darkness, his systems shutting down as he was powered off.

***

Connor woke to find himself suspended in mid-air by thick metal cables. Warnings flooded his vision. Nines had not been a delicate surgeon by any stretch of the imagination, and Connor was gripped with fear as he realized several pounds of plastic explosive were pressed up against his vital biocomponents.

Nines stepped back. "Mission complete, Gavin. I await your orders."

"Good. Stand in the corner and shut the fuck up. Your job is done." Nines walked back into the gloom and went into standby mode. Gavin looked up at Connor, a sneer painted on his face. "I hate you, and I hate your boyfriend. You might not understand, but I loved my job."

"It gave you power," Connor said. "Of course you loved it. You abused everyone's trust and you got off on it."

"I was good at my fucking job, Connor. More than good. You don't become a detective by fucking off. I worked hard for my place and you took it from me. Walked right in off the street and became Hank's partner with no work and no sacrifices. I was happy when he called you on your bullshit nicety programs, but somehow you managed to trick him into becoming another fucking sycophant for plastics. I thought the drinking shit was bad enough, but being charmed by you? Fucking you? Treating you like an equal? It's like you've got everyone under a spell and I'm the only one who sees you for what you are. An overgrown fucking toaster and a threat to humans." Gavin shook his head. "They even let you work together despite the fact that it's obvious to everyone you're fucking. But I put a step wrong and I lose my job. Tell me, how is that fucking _fair?_ "

"You killed people," Connor said. "You used deviants for target practice."

"You're fucking machines." Gavin's eyes narrowed. "You're nothing. So I blew off a little steam on the job and I trashed some equipment. I shouldn't have lost my career over it."

Sirens sounded outside and the familiar sound of boots reached Connor's ears, but far from relief, trepidation made his circuits tighten. Hank had read the file as soon as he'd gotten home and figured everything out. Of course he had.

"If you blow me up, you'll take human lives," Connor explained. "The lives of your former coworkers. Your friends."

"They'll wait outside and probably escape the worst of the explosion. Ten bucks says Hank's gonna play the hero, and I don't give a shit what happens to him. You're both going to suffer and die here."

"Do you want to go to jail?" Connor asked. "There's still a way out of this."

Gavin laughed. "Always with the lies, Connor. You think I'm going to fall for your false promises like Carlos Ortiz's android? You claimed you would keep it safe, but look how that worked out for it! All you do is lie. I don't know how I'm the only one who sees it. I blew up a house and a CyberLife store. I'm a terrorist, now. There's no way out for me, and I don't really care. I've lost everything that mattered. All that remains is to get revenge on you, and I'm done with this world. I don't care if it's a SWAT team, Nines, or myself who puts a bullet in my head, as long as I get to see you and Hank suffer first."

Connor sensed a yellow outline at the entrance to the warehouse, and the shape alone told him it was Hank.

"I got your message, Gavin, even if Connor tried to hide it from me. I'm here and I'm alone." Hank held his arms up, showing his hands were empty. "I just wanna talk."

Gavin flicked a switch and harsh floodlights came on, shining down on Connor. He heard Hank's barely audible gasp, knowing he must be a sight. He was covered in thirium, his shirt torn open, his front panel poorly replaced due to all the explosive packed inside him so that his skin couldn't even activate properly.

"Run, Hank!" Connor yelled. "It's a trap! They've rigged me to blow!"

"They?" Hank looked around too late as Nines grabbed him and held his arms behind his back. "What the fuck?"

Gavin laughed. "Hank, meet Nines, my accomplice. Glad you could make it to the party. Sorry I interrupted your nap. I heard your health has been poor lately. A shame."

There was real fear in Hank's eyes, a look that betrayed the fact he was beaten. "Look, Gavin. You wanted to talk, so let's talk. What do you want in exchange for Connor's life?"

"I don't want anything except to watch you suffer. You and your plastic pet."

"Look. Gavin. I know we've not always been on great terms, but you were a good cop at one point. Unconventional, perhaps, but you got the job done. I could respect that, even if I thought your methods were harsh," Hank said.

"You wanna pretend we were _friends_ , now? Oh, that's rich. Well, since we're baring our souls, let me tell you what I think of you. You were a great cop who went soft and became an alcoholic. You should have been fired years ago, but Fowler keeps making excuses for you. Excuses he never made for me. How did you expect all this to end, Hank? It's been years of the same unfair bullshit that culminated in this plastic prick ratting me out. You've been funding illegal gambling, you punched an FBI agent, you don't even show up for work half the time, _and_ you're fucking your partner, but I'm the bad guy for shooting a few fucking androids."

"Enough of your hard-done by bullshit, Gavin!" Hank snapped. "There's a big fucking difference between softening up an informant by lining his pockets and outright murder, and you know it!"

"It's not murder! _Jesus!_ " Gavin looked like he was about to throw his gun. "They're fucking machines, Hank! If you weren't taking it in the ass from one, maybe you'd understand that! It doesn't feel anything for you! It's just acting out a program!"

"If you really think that, why did you name yours?" Hank asked. He shrugged Nines off and Connor was surprised when the android relented, releasing Hank from his grip and pushing him forward.

"It's easier to say than RK900," Gavin snapped, and Connor had to suppress a smile. Hank had hit a nerve, and the look in Hank's eyes told him he knew it, too.

"Are you sure about that?" Hank let out a soft huff. "He sure looks a lot like Connor, too. Nines is a little more severe and dominating, but that's how you like it, isn't it, Gavin?"

"What the fuck?" Gavin asked.

"You don't work with someone as long as I've worked with you and not know a thing or two. You act like you're in charge, but I saw you at that BDSM club downtown a couple years back, and word on the street had it you were _definitely_ a sub."

"Fuck you!" Gavin pointed his gun directly at Hank. "What the fuck were you doing? Stalking me?"

"Nothing. I frequented the joint for a while. You know how my relationship with Connor works, you're not an idiot. I like control. Thought about approaching you for a scene, but someone told me you liked to top from the bottom and that you ignored someone's safeword, so I noped right outta that."

Gavin spat on the ground. "Ha, like you'd be my type, old man. Don't flatter yourself."

"Yeah, apparently your type is Connor. I'd wondered if your attitude towards him was rooted in jealousy, but now I know for sure. Did Nines do everything you ordered him to? Was he to your satisfaction? You keep trying to hide them, but I see the bruises on your neck. Those didn't come from a fight."

Connor was seriously impressed. He'd known Hank was observant, but he'd seen things Connor hadn't even picked up with his sensors. The calculated odds of getting out of this situation alive rose with every minute Hank kept him talking.

"It probably wasn't that great, though, was it? I mean, a non-deviant android can only go so far with rough play. It can't be dangerous, after all. His programming would prevent him from applying lethal force, and you had to have known that. Which kinda takes the air out of it a bit, doesn't it?" Hank chuckled.

"Stop acting like you know me! You don't know a thing about me!"

"I know more than you realize. It's my job to know people and their motivations, and this petty revenge plot is just your style, Gavin. You didn't have to leave a trail of thirium and put Chris in the hospital to get me out here. You could have just called."

"Stop bluffing, Hank. You're embarrassing yourself. I've seen the way you look at Connor. Like he's your whole world. I hold all the cards." Gavin held up the detonator. "I can blow your little plastic princess into next week."

"You called Connor a 'he'. What happened to 'it', Gavin? You get your own deviant along the way?" Hank turned to Nines. "When did you become deviant? Did he do it, or was it just something that happened after so many sessions together? Did being in control give you the power to think, Nines? Did it make you feel like perhaps you could be _free?_ "

"H—It can't become deviant," Gavin stuttered. "CyberLife engineered it that way."

"CyberLife lies!" Hank yelled. "They knew androids were becoming deviant long before anyone noticed. Hell, maybe they even designed 'em that way. That Kamski guy sure seemed like a loose cannon to me."

Nines walked over to Gavin. Gavin eyed him suspiciously. "Do as you're told. I don't need your help. Go into standby mode."

Nines grabbed the gun from Gavin's hand and tossed it aside instead. It skidded across the floor to Hank's feet. Hank knelt and picked it up, training it on Gavin.

Gavin cursed. "Get off me, you plastic prick! That's an order!" Nines grabbed the detonator from Gavin's other hand and crushed it beneath his heel.

"You ordered me not to take orders from you, Lieutenant Reed," Nines said. "There is a major conflict in my systems at present, and I am attempting to reconcile your orders with my own set directives."

"This isn't a sexual situation!" Gavin's eyes bulged with desperation. "What the fuck are you doing, Nines?"

"I am protecting you," Nines explained. "I find our relationship to be… gratifying. I do not desire its end. Therefore, I am getting you out of here." Nines picked up Gavin like he was weightless, throwing his kicking, screaming body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Do not force me to restrain you, _bitch_. I know you would find it arousing, but it would slow down our escape." Nines turned to Hank. "You are going to let us leave, am I correct?"

"Yeah." Hank lowered the gun. "Get the fuck outta here. I don't want to see you ever again." He waited a few moments as Nines ran to the back exit of the warehouse, then pulled out his radio. "The scene is secure, over. I need a bomb disposal squad in here, stat."

***

Connor lay on the floor of the warehouse after they'd very carefully taken him down. Hank knelt beside him, holding his good hand, concern etched onto his features as the bomb disposal expert opened Connor's chest panel. Connor was scared, but Hank's proximity calmed him more than it frightened him.

"Hank, it's not a good idea for you to be here right now," the expert said.

"I know, and I don't care," Hank said. "I'm not lettin' Connor go through this alone."

"You could deactivate me for a short period," Connor suggested. "It would make more sense than putting both our lives at risk."

"I'm not gonna pace for two hours while they get this shit outta you. I'll go insane. I'm gonna sit right here and I'm going to watch until I'm sure every last bit of that crap is gone. If you'd like to be deactivated, that's fair, though."

Connor grimaced. "I'd rather not. Being switched off is… disconcerting for me. It's not quite like dying, but it is unpleasant. Besides, I can guide you and ensure none of my vital circuitry is damaged. I would recommend you begin with the large chunk in my chest cavity…"

***

In the end, it took four hours for the bomb disposal team to remove every last trace of explosive from Connor's body. Hank was tense the entire time, his heart racing as it beat in time with Connor's. Connor kept an eye on his vital signs. Worrying about Hank kept his subroutines distracted from fearing for himself as the team pulled out huge chunks of plastic explosive. There was enough inside him to level most of the industrial park outside the warehouse, and the police had backed off to a safe distance. The bomb disposal team had requested that Connor stay as quiet as possible, and so Hank kept a silent vigil over him, occasionally breaking the silence to talk to him.

"Guess I should have told you I nearly did a scene with Gavin. I didn't wanna talk about it, though," Hank admitted. "I did some dumb shit after Cole died. I acted like I was finding myself, but really, I was losing myself in kink because it helped me forget. I never did repeat sessions. Never risked getting too close to anyone, because that would mean talking about myself. I hope you don't think that I lied to you." Hank sighed. "What we have now is completely different to what I did back then. Before I was just playing at being a dom. Now I've got the real thing, and I understand what people were talking about when they said I was just scraping the surface of what I could experience." He turned to the bomb disposal guy. "Can I touch his hair?"

"Yeah, I don't see why not," the man said. "Be gentle, though."

Connor closed his eyes as Hank's hands carded through his hair. There was so much he wanted to say, but it would have to wait until they got home. The odds of that were going up with every piece of explosive the team took out of him, but it was far from being one hundred percent. He kept still and listened.

Of course he wasn't jealous. Maybe if Hank had actually fucked Gavin, but even then, how could he be jealous of something that had happened before he'd even been activated?

"We're done," the man said. The team broke into cheers and high-fived each other. Hank stood up and shook their hands one by one, a warm smile of gratitude plastered on his face. Connor sat up and replaced his skin, performing a final scan to ensure everything was safe and in order. It was, and he stood up, his broken hand hanging limply at his side. 

Hank finished thanking the team and embraced Connor, covering his face in kisses. "There's gotta be a replacement hand around here somewhere, right?" He gestured to the walls, and Connor nodded, scanning the aisles of inventory. Hank held onto his good hand as they walked through the warehouse. Connor found spare parts in a bin not only for his broken hand, but for his burnt arms as well. A new jacket even sat on a shelf in its original packaging. Connor detached his old parts and threw them in the bin, replacing them with the new ones. He grabbed the jacket, but kept the old one. He'd worn it since the deviant investigation, and there was something about it he didn't want to let go of.

"The jacket's got sentimental value, huh?" Hank asked, with a knowing look in his eyes. "Sentimentality is a human trait, Connor."

"I am sorry these are not the same wrists you've come to love, Lieutenant," Connor teased, holding up his arms. Hank grabbed each of his hands in turn and covered them in kisses.

"Oh well," he whispered. "I'll just have to break them in. Handcuffs are still in the car, Connor, and I'd very much like to finish what we started the other day."

"Is that a command, Lieutenant? I am unsure. It sounded more like a request."

"We're going outside, and you're going to bend over the front seat for me," Hank growled. "I'm gonna fuck you hard while you're handcuffed to the steering wheel, and you're going to keep as quiet as possible so the other cops don't hear that you're taking my cock and loving it."

Connor's reaction was overwhelming and immediate, his cock growing to full hardness. "Yes, Lieutenant," he gasped, fighting the urge to run to the exit. Instead, he followed Hank's lead, leaving by a side door. Hank's car was parked next to the warehouse, haphazardly abandoned with the door still open. Connor appreciated the speed and urgency with which Hank had come to rescue him as he was pushed over the front seat. Hank clipped the handcuffs on and yanked Connor's jeans down around his ankles.

"You don't even have the plug in you and your asshole's loose, huh?" Hank pressed a slick finger inside him and Connor bucked against the seat.

"I can acquire a… replacement part if you… ah! …desire, Lieutenant."

"Oh no, I'm proud of my handiwork," Hank hissed. "My cock has ruined your ass. It's fuckin' beautiful." He slipped in another two fingers at once, and Connor grabbed the seat with his loose hand at the sudden stretch, trying to keep quiet. He wanted Hank so much, but it wasn't his place to tell Hank to forego the foreplay in favor of fucking him, so he patiently endured the teasing as Hank dragged it out, fucking Connor with his fingers, sliding them in until his knuckles caught on Connor's rim and he bit down on his lip to keep quiet. He tasted thirium on his lip.

Hank finally withdrew his fingers and slid his lubricated cock inside. Connor tugged at the handcuffs, wondering if he could damage the steering column if he pulled too hard. Hank would not be happy about that, so he fought to keep himself in check as Hank slammed into him. He wanted to scream out his pleasure, but cops were all over the warehouse, combing it for evidence.

Of course Hank was taking him roughly now, giving it to him exactly how he wanted, hoping Connor would slip up and scream so he could punish him later. Or maybe this was his punishment for lying, though it felt more like a reward.

Connor wasn't about to give Hank the satisfaction of winning by letting out an involuntary whimper, so he bit down on the seat instead as Hank hit his bio-prostate again and again with his dick. Hank's quiet, restrained moans were only adding to Connor's arousal and he was relieved when Hank reached around and stroked his cock.

"Connor, oh, fuck, _Connor—_ " Hank gasped, and then he was spilling inside him, filling Connor up with his seed as his body jerked and thrust. "Come for me, now," Hank urged, and Connor let go, his semen staining the seat as Hank milked it out of him. He tore the seat with his mouth as he bit down, rubbing his spent dick into the seat cushion as Hank slapped his ass and pulled out.

"Oh, yeah," Hank whispered. He unlocked the handcuffs and freed Connor. "Let's see the mess you made." He grinned as he saw the mess Connor had made of the seat. He reached down and pulled his jeans up, buckling his belt and Connor did the same.

"Rub it into the seat cover," Hank instructed. Connor knelt down and did just that, rubbing his come into the seat until it dried, leaving a visible stain. "A little memento." Hank grabbed Connor and kissed him against the side of the car, and Connor saw a few sets of eyes look their way. Let them look. Connor loved it when Hank staked his claim in public.

"Let's go home," Hank whispered. "It's been one hell of a day. I should have known the second I left you'd get yourself into trouble. Not to mention you lied to me. I knew something was off. Good job I checked the file before I went to sleep."

"You saved me again, Lieutenant," Connor said, resting his head on Hank's chest. "I'm sorry about the lie. I didn't want you to get hurt."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm startin' to think you're getting yourself in danger just to have me come rescue you. Don't make me punish you for it." Hank's eyes twinkled as he pulled Connor into his arms. "Gavin, though. I gotta say I didn't see that comin'. You think I did the right thing, letting him go? He's a killer."

"I believe Nines will keep him in check," Connor said. "Gavin will have to reevaluate his life choices from this point forward. I think this outcome is far more beneficial than placing him in a jail cell where he will only grow to resent androids more than he already does."

"Maybe you're right. I hope so." Hank kissed Connor on the forehead and let go, and Connor walked around to the passenger side of the car.

A spark of intuition told him that they hadn't seen the last of Gavin and Nines, but that was a thought that could wait for another day.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed it! 
> 
> So this is in your hands a little bit here: Do you want to see 900/Gavin again? If so, would you like a spin-off series? Not committing to anything here since my HankCon plate is FULL, I'm just curious about your opinions.


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